


Welcome to the Madhouse

by misura



Category: Demonata Series - Darren Shan
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Grocery Shopping, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: A werewolf and an eldritch abomination walk into a supermarket.
Relationships: Grubbs Grady/Lord Loss
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Welcome to the Madhouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



I try to tell myself that my current situation isn't so bad, that I've made it through worse. Never mind that things look hopeless right now, with no chance of escape anywhere to be seen.

I'm Grubbs Grady! I laugh in the face of danger!

"Perhaps the chicken?" Lord Loss suggests sadly. One of his arms is already reaching.

The chicken's on sale this week. Not that I need to worry about the household budget, but Lord Loss feels there's nothing wrong with economy. Or chicken.

I feel like I'm living in a nightmare I can't wake up from. Grocery shopping with Lord Loss! It might not sound so bad, but in reality, it's the worst! I'd rather be fighting my way through a hundred vomit demons, or be trapped in a dark cave while the roof's collapsing. Naked. Without a light.

"I don't like chicken," I say. The taste reminds me of human flesh, but drier. Don't get me wrong: I'm a carnivore through and through. I love meat! Just not chicken.

Lord Loss sighs like I've told him it's going to rain on the day he planned on having a garden party. Given the sort of day I've been having, that's probably next. I can already picture the conversation.

He'll tell me to be more friendly, more social. A good opportunity to get to know the neighbors. As if he's not inviting himself over to their houses every time things go wrong, to feed on their misery!

"But I already got the carrots," he says, probably deciding I need to suffer a bit more before he hits me with his idea for a garden party. Or maybe that really is all in my head. "Chicken goes well with carrots."

Lord Loss has never eaten chicken in his life. Or carrots. I suspect the only reason he even learned how to cook was for me. I wish he hadn't bothered! What's wrong with not knowing how to cook, anyway? It's not like it's a required skill anymore nowadays! I could have happily lived on microwaved meals for the rest of my life.

"We can return them and pick a different kind of vegetables," I say. I don't really want to go back to Fruits & Vegetables. Prolong the agony? No thank you! Still, I'm gambling Lord Loss doesn't want to backtrack either. Lord Loss has a shopping list. Better yet, he's on a Schedule.

If we're late getting back to the car, we might get a ticket. Then Lord Loss would have to find the human responsible for that ticket and do something appropriately horrible to him. Except that, as we also need to be home in time for the news and dinner, he'd have to make a rush job of it, and if there's anything Lord Loss hates, it's rush jobs.

In Lord Loss's opinion, anything worth doing is worth doing well. That includes cooking, painting, wallpapering, driving and, of course, grocery shopping. (Also having sex. But I don't mind so much in that case, even if I keep telling myself orgasm denial is only fun for so long.)

"Perhaps we should." Lord Loss hesitates.

I embrace my sense of misery, wallowing in it. I don't need to make all that much of an effort. I really hate this. I'd much rather have come here by myself, or not at all. Lord Loss is the one who cooks: why do I even need to be here? Don't tell me those eight arms aren't enough to carry all the bags!

Lord Loss smiles. One of his arms feints towards the chicken, before picking up some beef.

I roll my eyes and we move on to Dairy. No trouble there! Milk, yoghurt - not much to choose from. Lord Loss makes sure to pick the ones from free range cows. So conscientious! If he could feed off of animals, I bet he'd simply pick the cheapest.

Some cookies and tea cakes. I don't make a fuss, knowing that they're not for me. Lord Loss loves to drop in on random people who have lost someone and 'offer comfort'. He claims it helps break the ice when he brings something sweet.

I'm sure it does. Nothing like being presented with your dearly departed's favorite tea snack to remind you that they're gone forever! And they can't even get mad at him for it. After all, how could he know? 

"Nothing for you?" Lord Loss asks cheerfully.

"Nah." Petty? You bet!

Lord Loss drops the cheer at once. He sighs. "Perhaps I could bake something. Like on that TV show we watched the other night." Lord Loss loves TV contests. Big surprise!

I'm almost sure that he can't actually feed on the contestants's emotions as they get told that, alas, they didn't make it to the next round, too bad, so sad, better luck never! Almost.

"As long as you don't set the kitchen on fire," I say, regretting my words as soon as they're out of my mouth. It's not that I feel bad. It's that I know I'll feel worse, soon, because in fact, the kitchen has sort of almost been on fire once, and it wasn't Lord Loss who caused it.

"Never." We pass a young mother with a baby in a stroller. She spares us little more than a glance.

I wonder what she sees. What she'd do if she were able to see the real us. Scream, probably. Run away. Call the police, maybe, if she's able to think that clearly and her hands aren't shaking too much to be able to use the phone.

Naturally Lord Loss would be happy to wait until she calms down a bit. He'd be very kind, very patient, giving her all the time she needs. No bother!

The baby starts wailing. Loudly. The sound hurts my ears.

Lord Loss asks me something, but I can't hear him. I point at my ears. I bet he's done it on purpose. Nothing like a crying baby to bring out the cranky side of people - but of course most people won't want to admit it. Babies are so cute, so innocent! What sort of monster would want to harm a baby? Never mind that it's making a sound like an air siren.

Lord Loss floats closer, six of his arms pulling me closer while the other two remain on the shopping cart. Gotta watch out for all those people wanting to snag our carefully selected groceries! "Ice cream?"

"Sure." Joke's on him: I love all kinds of ice cream. He can't do anything too awful to me there!

Except, of course, make me stand there while he tries to decide which flavor will go best with the beef-and-carrot dinner. I'm tempted to do unto him what he almost did to me with the chicken, except that I already know it won't work. Eight arms versus two isn't much of a contest.

"We could get a couple of flavors," I suggest after what feels like several hours. "It's not like it goes off."

"There's only so much free space in the freezer," Lord Loss frets.

"Pick one at random, then?" Not likely! Lord Loss likes games of 'luck' only when he already knows the outcome. Pick a box, any box, and a million pounds could be yours! Alas, that was the wrong one - perhaps next week's contestant will have better luck? Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.

"Strawberry," Lord Loss decides. I realize something will happen to make me like strawberry ice cream a little less than any other flavor. What, I don't know. I can't even imagine. I know it will happen, though.

I also know there's no point in worrying about it. Besides, at least I won out on the chicken!

Didn't I? After Lord Loss has reduced the cashier to tears by complimenting her on her necklace (how?), I'm putting our groceries in the bags we brought from home, and there's no beef to be found anywhere. Carrots, sure. Tea cakes. Milk. Eggs. Strawberry ice cream. No beef.

"Problem, Grubitsch?" Lord Loss has divided his part of the groceries over six bags.

"I hate you," I say. Sure, he saved my sister from spending the rest of her life as a monster, but that doesn't mean I have to let him get away with everything. There are limits, and I draw mine at eating chicken.

"Perhaps we could invite the neighbors over for dinner." Lord Loss sighs sadly. "Or even a garden party, if the weather report's promising."


End file.
